


Remember me love when I'm reborn

by summerof16



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, I love these goofballs, Myth ragnarok, Sifki finding their way back to each other., Soulmates, rebirth fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 07:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17096819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerof16/pseuds/summerof16
Summary: The world has ended and yet it hasn't.In a new life, in a new world, all of Asgard is reborn.As the Christmas season approaches two of the children of Asgard find themselves facing visions of their pasts. Visions of a love that was lost. Visions of lives that were sacrificed.Can the memories of old return to what was once war and mischief?





	Remember me love when I'm reborn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WarandLove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarandLove/gifts).



> Hey!  
> Thank you for clicking on my humble little fic. I hope you all have a Merry Christmas!  
> In case anyone gets confused at the very beginning, during the rebirth Lucas is Loki, Syd is Sif and Florence is our beloved Queen, Frigga. They'll find their real names along the way, don't worry!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Lucas always hated the Christmas season.  

All the obnoxious music that blared everywhere, the faux cheeriness, the constant pressure to rush and buy gifts for people you wouldn’t give a toss about, but having to get them something anyway since you pulled their name in the office-wide secret Santa … 

 

 

Lucas sighed dramatically, and looked down at the crumpled slip of paper that just said ‘Sydney Jacobs (Syd)’.  Of all the people in the office, fate just had to give him her name... Why couldn’t he just have gotten another junior partner and not the sour security woman with the dark-haired pixie cut? They'd never exchanged a kind word in all the time they'd known each other. Not one.  

Instead, she glowered at him every time he opened his mouth. Certainly, her glowers were usually in response to something that he’d said or done, but she still should not be glaring at a junior partner. Even if the said junior partner was making a snide remark about senior partner, and son of the boss, Donald Anderssen. But Donald definitely deserved any flak  he received, Lucas  was adamant. He’d gone to school with the golden-haired princeling, and  there had even been a time where they had been inseparable roommates throughout the first years of University. Wherever Donald went, Lucas was his shadow. Whatever stupid idea Donald had, Lucas was there to bail him out with a slightly smarter, if equally reckless, scheme. 

And so it continued. 

Lucas helped Donald get through law school and Donald helped Lucas learn to unwind from time to time. But like with any seemingly unshakeable bond, the falling out came quickly and with force. 

As a  fire bends to the whims of the  air, so had Lucas found himself bending to Donald. Donald could be as gentle as a breeze, fitting in with all that was around him.  Jovial and fun as it pleased him and those he held dear.  But at times, he had been a tempest, a tornado, a hurricane, blowing down all that was around him, and quenching a candle’s light with torrential rains he knew how to command. While fire needed the air to grow and flare to its fullest, it needed to be sheltered from the wind’s  consuming ways. The wind’s admirable strength.  And so, though Lucas had looked up to Donald like an elder brother, he  found he was losing himself in his friendship with him.  He found himself extinguishing as Donald’s regard became a measure by which he judged himself.  He could not bear to be measured and compared to someone he could never even dream of being like. And what would happen when one day Donald would get too wrapped up in the world of his wealthy parents? Lucas could not rely on Donald's benevolence considering he could not even rely on Donald to buy milk.

So he moved out. He moved to a flat and worked his ass off, drawing away from Donald and his clique. If Anderssen and partners hadn’t given him the best offer for a starting salary, he would have been content never seeing Donald again. Or that’s what he told himself while growling internally with jealousy as Donald only once commented on his withdrawal while also rising through the company at a record rate, reaching the very top of the food chain before even turning 30. Meanwhile Lucas, the valedictorian, the man with the most won cases in the entire practice, was a star in theory only. Sure, he’d made it to junior partner, but it had not been half as smooth a journey as for Donald. 

So what if Lucas occasionally mentioned that Donald had only risen so quickly because his dad ran the company? Everyone knew it was true. The Anderssen patriarch wouldn’t understand meritocracy if it spit in his face. If there had been any justice in this world, it would have been Lucas who had  risen like a meteor with his ruthless work ethic and flawless record. But in the end this was how nepotism always worked.

The worthy never received their fair dues. 

He could tell from the perpetual scowl on Syd’s lips whenever they interacted that it was severely wrong to even think bad thoughts about the oh-so-holy father of all, Harbard Anderssen. But he was too precious of an asset to fire, so he could get away with it and Syd could do nothing about it. He certainly tested the boundaries of what Syd could and couldn’t do often enough. He took an almost childish pleasure in riling her up, by sharing quiet blasphemies about the Anderssens, in so soft a voice that only she could hear him. She couldn't report him for them. It would be her word against his, and at this point even the HR department knew they had a quiet war going on. Instead, she'd usually she’d bite back, trying not to be blunt enough to be fired, but still sharp enough to get under his skin. But he knew he was getting under her skin too. He enjoyed getting under her skin. He’d even said as much to her. 

That had been a big mistake.  

She’d struck a wall near his head with  her steel fist, clearly wishing he had been on the receiving end. She walked off, seething, looking like she wanted to use him for shooting practice. He certainly didn’t want to give her a chance to. So he’d run off to HR and drafted a complaint for intimidation, the crater in the wall as his witness. Syd deftly retaliated with a sexual harassment complaint. It seemed ‘getting under her skin’ was able to pass off as an innuendo. Even Lucas had to admit that was a brilliant move. She was indeed a worthy opponent, but now they were at a stalemate.

That had been a month ago. Now he had to buy her a gift. (And a nice gift too. He didn’t need HR to pounce on him for upsetting her with a gag-gift.) 

Whoever assigned the giftee list had a cruel sense of humour. 

*** 

If Syd hadn’t known that it was the Anderssen matriarch, Florence Anderssen, who’d personally matched the secret santa  giftees, she’d have accused Donald of meddling in the damn thing. And she’d definitely have pummelled him for it. He deserved it half the time anyway, she thought, seeing his shit-eating grin in her mind’s eye. But she was allowed to think that. They were close friends. They’d become fast friends as soon as she’d started at Anderssen and partners. So close for a while that people had started gossiping that she was sweet on him. But that didn’t even have a kernel of truth. Donald was like her big brother, nothing else. 

Meanwhile her snooty giftee was certainly not in her good graces. She glowered at the name.  _Lucas Larsson (Junior partner)_  on a slip of paper  _._  Even his stupid name sounded like it belonged to a supervillain. He looked like world domination was just another item on his to-do list. He could certainly pull off the look with his slicked back black hair and consistently black shirts. If it weren’t for his assortment of gold and green cufflinks, she’d think he didn’t know what colours were. And that constant, derisive smirk that seemed to be etched on his features. God, how she’d like to wipe that thing off his face. 

Maybe she could gift him a bottle of shampoo and fill it with hair removal cream… That would fix the smirk for sure… 

She grinned madly to herself, not noticing that she’d stopped in the middle of the toothpaste aisle until someone pushed past her impatiently, smacking her shoulder on the way.  

“Hey! Learn some manners,” she yelled after the tall and lanky man, who wore a thick tweed jacket and a black and green stripped scarf. He turned his head ever-so-slightly, and arched a well-maintained eyebrow at her, like he was a king looking down on a peasant.  

She gaped at the familiar face, as he turned around fully, wearing that stupid smirk of his again.  _When you think of the devil._

“I should have known only you would block an entire aisle, and idly day-dream instead of being aware of your surroundings,” he grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he folded his hands behind his back, resting the wire-basket against the back of his legs. 

Her nose flared, and she set her jaw, her eyes narrowing into a thin slit. A smile that could corrode metal appeared on her lips, as she looked him up and down speculatively. If he was going to go low, so was she. 

“At least people notice my existence long enough to get mad at me taking up space.” For a moment, she could have sworn that his eyes widened. A twinge of shock on his part.  She’d struck a chord. She grinned wolfishly, though his expression cleared almost instantly, replaced by an unreadable mask. He tilted his head and hummed speculatively, pursing his lips a little as the cogs turned in his head. 

“If I am so truly invisible, then why is it that even the most oblivious security personnel noticed me?” he purred, wearing that damn smirk again. 

“Who are you calling oblivious, Slender Man?” she growled, moving into a power stance, with her basket propped on her hip. 

“Thanks for noticing, I run,” he winked, baring his teeth in a wide grin.

“What the-” Syd blustered, “It's a meme! I'm not complimenting y-” 

The Christmas music that had been playing on repeat cut off with a loud static noise. All shoppers clutched their ears as the noise morphed into a painfully high-pitched wail that shook through their very bones. 

** 

“What in the-“ Lucas started, just before the noise died off. A hollow ringing continued in his ears, as a gentle guitar strummed softly from the Tannoy. 

Lucas blinked, slowly releasing his ears to better gauge the latest assault on his ears.  

That was not any Christmas song he knew… He stared up at the nearest white-painted speaker that tried to camouflage with the ceiling, as a voice began crooning.  

 _I couldn’t utter my love when it counted._  

 _But I’m singling like a bird about it now._  

 _And I couldn’t whisper when you needed it shouted._  

Something was off. The words, the voice, something… It was as if they had been laced with something. Like a drug, like magic, clawing at something within him. A tendril of something pushed in through his ears and went straight to his heart. Squeezing. Straining. Trying to pull him apart from within. Trying to push apart from within. The hypnotic strumming continued, as if to coax him into submission, but whatever was happening, he could not allow it to continue. He could not let it tear him apart. He needed to fight. His fingers itched with unfamiliar motions, as if trying to accomplish something, but nothing happened. Nothing should happen. Why would it? 

 _Words hung above, but never would form,_  

 _Like a cry at the final breath that is drawn._  

He felt exhausted. Nauseous, even. Did he look as ill as he felt? His eyes locked with Syd, but she was looking pale herself, like she’d seen a ghost. Before she could say anything, he hightailed out of the shop. 

 _Remember me, love, when I’m reborn._  

He stumbled and dropped everything as an image of a shining citadel filling his vision. Golden and glittering with a rainbow-like bridge in the distance. There was a woman standing at the far end of the bridge, but he could not make out her features. A proud set of shoulders and a glaive were all he could identify.  

 _As a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn._    
Lucas gasped as reality dragged him back like a hard slap. He trembled as the vision disappeared into fire. 

***

Syd didn’t know what had happened. One moment she was ready to tear Lucas a new one, and in the next she couldn’t move. Paralysed by a sense of déjà vu. _Remember me, love, when I’m reborn._ Why did those words mean something to her? She’s never heard them before, so why should they trigger this immense sense of loss in her gut? This yearning and hopelessness?

She watched Lucas stumble out with a blank expression, this darkness freezing her in place. She barely noticed that the words continued to be crooned from the speaker system, that the hypnotic thrum of the guitar still weaved around her.

Until a gentle hand shook her shoulder.

“Sydney, dear? Are you all right?” A familiar gentle voice asked. Florence Anderssen, in all her regal glory walked around Syd, her face etched with worry. It felt wrong that anyone should ever cause Mrs. Anderssen any distress. She was nothing but kindness to everyone around her. Whether at the company or the million galas she hosted (and had hired Syd for as security). Mrs. Anderssen's black-gloved hand pulled away, and rested against the side of her knee-length couture felt coat, with a regal fur-collar. “You look a little pale, my dear.”

Syd blinked slowly and leant against the shelf on her right, clutching it weakly. What was going on with her?

“Oh dear,” Florence said with alarm, and forced her to hand the shopping basket over, and carefully led Syd to a solid wall she could lean against. She leant against it and her legs buckled under her. She sat on the floor, slumped over like a marionette who had her strings cut. She barely registered how Florence sent away all staff members who tried to come to her aid, as if she owned the shop. But nobody made a fuss. You didn’t have to know Florence to completely trust her judgement. She exuded calm.

And power?

For a moment, Syd swore she could see light blue tendrils of fire licking around Florence, like an aura, reaching out to each of the staff members before they turned away.

Syd groaned and buried her head between her knees, closing her eyes. She really was losing her mind.

 

 

_“Why must you always be so irritating?” she growled, climbing out of bed, clutching the furs around her warm tunic as she sniffed. It was a curse to be ill, especially during Yule when the wild hunt was coming up, and here he was just to taunt her!_

_“Dearest Lady, did you not know that irritating you is the sole purpose of my existence?” a silky voice said, emerging from her bedside, where he’d arrived with a bowl of hot soup. The gesture itself was kind, but naturally he had insisted on trying to feed her like an invalid._

_She would not deign it._

_“In that case, you’re fulfilling your purpose remarkably well,” she snapped, walking off towards the balcony, the furs sweeping along the floors of her chambers._

_“I aim to please my lady love,” he chuckled. She didn’t need to see him, to hear the infuriating smirk playing on his lips._

_“I have told you before, not to call me that,” she muttered, glaring daggers at nothing in particular. The clouds did not deserve the glare, but it was safer to direct her eyes to the skies than the gardens below._

_“Forgive me,” he chuckled, his voice growing louder as he drew closer. “My beloved warrior maiden.”_

_She pursed her lips, glancing away, as his arm wrapped around her waist, and soft lips pressed a kiss to her cheek._

_“I only wish to help you with a speedy recovery,” he murmured burrowing his face against her neck. The gentleness of the action made her soften her stance, and her muscles relaxed a little._

_“And I wish you would find a way to aid me without making me want to run my glaive through you…”_

_He chuckled softly, and kissed the top of her head._

_“It is truly fortuitous for you that Huginn and Munnin are not here to  hear you threatening a prince of the realm, or there would be Hel to pay.”_

_“Oh, but it would be worth it,” she grinned broadly, turning to face him with her own mischievous grin-_

Syd’s vision went white as a middle-aged stranger, wearing the store's uniform grey-shirt, shone a flashlight into her eyes.

“Follow the light,” the sandy-haired man instructed her, his dark brown eyes tracking her pupils with professional intensity. His lips were puckered into a frown.

“Sydney, dear,” Florence said from over his shoulder, bringing Syd back into reality. “You heard the manager. Follow the light. We need to know you’re okay.”

She nodded, feeling strangely hollow. The episode or fainting spell or whatever the hell had just happened had drained her energy. She followed the light slowly, and kept glancing back at Mrs. Anderssen, though green moving splotches now coloured her vision.

“What happened?” she groaned, clutching her head, and feeling light-headed.

“It seems you fainted,” the manager, whose name tag read ‘Phil Coulson’ said matter-of-factly, tucking the flashlight back into his boxy first-aid kit. He turned to Florence. “I don’t think anything is wrong, but you should make sure your daughter gets some rest and has plenty of electrolytes. If this happens again, you should take her to see a doctor about it.”

“Of course, thank you so very much for your help,” Florence said with a gracious nod, but there was a glimmer in her eyes that Syd could not quite understand. 

“Not a problem,” he said, rising to his feet, and helping Syd up in the process, though she really didn’t feel like standing up. “You’ll be alright, kid,” he said, handing Syd a bar of chocolate like she was a little child. “Remember, water and electrolytes.” 

She blinked, trying to process what had happened, as he walked off. And yet she could only think of one thing. She turned to Mrs. Anderssen with wide eyes and asked incredulously, “Did he just call me ‘kid’?”

***

Lucas clutched his head sitting on a wooden bench with a steaming paper-cup filled with coffee waiting impatiently. He ignored the sounds of curious dogs and their owners as they walked past at the crack of dawn. Their yapping grated on his nerves. He wished that he could make all the noise just fade away.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and the latest dream that plagued him resurfaced, mocking him mercilessly. Ever since that day in the shops, images and words of worlds he had never heard of or imagined, kept flinging themselves at him. There was no context. No clarity. No certainty in what any of it was about. All he knew for certain was that there was a woman every time. Her face hidden in the shadows, or in her ebony hair, or simply blurred as he focused on smaller portions of her face, like the determined set of her mouth or her sparkling eyes. Those eyes that could go from warm and doting to cold and angry in less than a heartbeat. Or so he assumed. In every dream, her eyes bore into him. They knew him more intimately than his calm mask was pleased with. The dreams came so persistently that he was sure that they weren't dreams at all,  but never having been the superstitious type, he concluded that he was naturally losing his mind from being overworked.

Perhaps he needed to take things easy for a while...

_In the consuming darkness of space, the skies above were littered with stars like a young child had spilt glitter everywhere on a dark blue canvas. The multiple moons that graced the skies brought a purple hue to the universe, painting it as a gentle, calming entity he could almost touch. It felt so near, and yet he knew it was not meant to be his. Most things weren't._

_He laid on his back, staring out through floor-length windows, up at that endless glitter. He hummed contently, one leg propped up and his hands clasped on his stomach, and shifted ever so slightly, causing his leather garb to softly squeeze the wooden surface he lay on. He lay on a seemingly endless set of tables that spanned the length of the palace library. The library was empty that night apart from one other, and her head lay beside his, though she was oriented towards the other end of the length of tables._

_“Do you think they will let me?” she asked softly, not needing to raise her voice above a whisper to be heard in their perfect tranquillity._

_“They would be fools not to after all the work you have put in,” he murmured. “You deserve to be the first woman amongst the Einherjar.”_

_“And yet I am not appeased,” she said softly, though he was sure he could hear a smile in her voice. “There are many fools everywhere.”_

_“And do I not know it?” he chuckled. He reached his hand up over his head, and rest it on the table between them, smiling as her fingers intertwined with his. “I am among the worst sort of fools,” he admitted. “A fool to be in love.”_

_She squeezed his hand, and he pulled them to his lips. She hummed as his lips ghosted over her knuckles._

_“Then I am only a fool for you.”_

Lucas squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the pang in his heart. A yearning for a glorified daydream. A dream whose fuzzy edges were more in line with those of a memory than any dreams he'd ever had. But it was such a pleasant fantasy. A world where he was loved. A world where he had not been passed around foster homes since he was a child. A world where he was no longer alone. 

It wasn't that he minded his current lifestyle, per se. He was successful by many measures, and unlike many of the kids he had grown up with, he'd been lucky enough to make something of himself... and yet... He didn't have the time to meet anyone. To fall in love. Hell, he didn't trust people enough to allow himself the luxuory of love. Love was dangerous. It was both a liability from external forces, but also within relationships. To love someone would require opening himself up and laying his heart bare to someone, and while he did not consider himself a coward by any measure... When it came to matters of the heart...

Best not to think about it. He sighed as his phone buzzed in his pocket, and dragged it out absentmindedly. He opened his eyes and yelped, dropping his phone onto the hard tarmac. He stared at his hand in horror, like it was dipped in blood, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. It was his usual pale white hand, but for a moment he could have sworn it was blue and surrounded by a green crackling…something. 

He stared at it intensely, turning his hand over slowly, trying to chase that image, but there was nothing to be seen. His hand looked just like it always did.

Lucas slumped on the park bench and shook his head, as he consulted the boring cloud-speckled skies, unable to process. He didn’t even notice two blue eyes sparkling in the distance, watching him unravel.

**

Syd stared into space, leaning against the only inch of wall that wasn’t covered in tinsel and Christmas decorations. Usually she would be mingling and making the most of free food and drinks, but the bottle of beer in her hand had barely made any progress in the last hour of the party. Her mind kept returning to the images. After the episode in the tooth-paste aisle, images had begun flashing in front of her eyes from time to time, disrupting whatever she was doing, or saying or even just thinking about. The episodes came irregularly, lingering a little too long, and fading out of grasp before she could get lost in them properly.

She felt fire and blood and cold steel.

No.

She _was_ fire and blood and steel. Her veins thrummed, singing out with pleasure, when the visions had her entity swinging with a weapon that intense Googling had revealed to be a double-headed glaive. Her entity, her _self,_ rushed headlong through fields doused in conflict. Fields where she reaped her enemies and sowed victory.

But not all was a battlefield. There were banquets, there were friends, there were people revelling. There were dragons, and treasures and an endless, gleaming citadel. But the one thing she remembered most clearly, the one thing she knew that this entity adored, was fighting the man from her first vision. Sometimes, it was a battle of wits, their tongues clashing in a verbal spar. Sometimes it was a battle of passion. But sometimes, her favourite times, it was a battle of powers.

In many of her episodes, they circled each other in a ring. She inhaled the cheering and shouting of her compatriots like it was nourishment, her face probably lighting up with glee. She readied her stance, acting as if the shouts did not buoy her soul. She had worked hard to get here, she knew. She had fought and bled and scrapped her way to respect. And now none would deny it. These days they cheered her.

She saw the man’s thin lips quirk up, a familiar sentiment it seemed, though the rest of his face was blurred. The tug of his lips, drew a tug of her own, before she launched into battle. Her form was impeccable, swinging and  thrusting with thrilling efficiency, but he was not swayed easily either. He fought defensively, avoiding her parries, with graceful turns, and bounding leaps. He did not wield a weapon, but she knew it was just a deception. As she thrust forward, he lept to the side, and wrapped an arm around her waist, from behind like a lover’s embrace, and held a small dagger against her jugular.

“Do you yield, my love?” he crooned against the shell of her ear, his breath tickling her.

She grinned, her breathing laboured from all the offensive fighting, and leant forward until the cold metal pressed against her skin.

“Do I ever?” she laughed breathlessly, before swinging her head back and slamming it against his. His grip on her loosened, and she wrenched his arms away, causing the blade to fall to the floor. With a quick sweep of her leg, she felled him, and climbed on top of him, straddling his middle, while pressing his arms down, above his head.

No longer could she see his mouth, but only his eyes as she bent over him.

“Do you yield?” She asked wearing a wolfish grin once again.

His green eyes sparkled with a wicked gleam.

“Only to you, Si-“

 

“Syd!” a boisterous voice exclaimed, startling her out of her reverie with over-energetic claps on her back. 

“What-“ Syd started, only to stop when she saw Donald standing beside her, grinning from ear to ear. His long blonde hair was tied up in a semi-neat ponytail, and he wore an expensive looking maroon jacket for the occasion. In comparison, her black dress with red stitching looked like it was from a charity shop. 

“I would have never taken you for a wall-flower,” he laughed boisterously, speaking so loudly that the entire room must have heard him. She glanced past his shoulder, and saw Lucas quickly turn away, trying to appear nonchalant from the other side of the massive, red-and-gold Christmas tree. Underneath the tree were piles of presents from the secret Santa exchange. 

Yup, there was not a single soul in the building who hadn’t heard Donald. 

“Thanks for that,” she grimaced, turning back to Donald. “Just say that a little louder. I’m sure they haven’t heard you in the next town…” 

“I am merely surprised, that’s all,” he beamed, his blue eyes twinkling. “’Fearsome Syd’ and ‘Wallflower Syd’ just don’t mesh in my head.” 

“Okay, and how about ‘Fearsome Syd beating your ass on the squash court next week?’” She grinned, giving him a vigorous pat on the back 

“Now _that_ is more like it,” he guffawed.  

She smirked, opening her mouth to make a smug retort when the Christmas playlist cut off abruptly.   

“It's time,” Donald grinned, looking past her shoulder to where Harbard and Florence stood near the tree. 

“Thank you everyone for coming tonight,” Florence began, stepping forward and holding her hands out in a welcoming gesture.  “Ever since this law-firm was established 80 years ago by my husband's father Bjórn Anderssen, it has been tradition that during the annual Christmas celebration, gifts would be exchanged between all those hard working men and women who dedicate their days to Anderssen and partners. Gifts for all of those working together and making this firm a better place.  And every year, we want to bring everyone a little bit closer.  We may be a law-firm but we are also a family-run business. And you are what makes the Anderssen and partners a family. But like in every family, some brothers and sisters sometimes need a push to talk to each other-”   

Some murmured in agreement, throughout her speech, while others pulled faces outside the matriarch’s line of sight. Lucas arched one brow, making Syd want to bury him with a glare, but upon closer inspection, something about his expression stopped her.  He didn't look haughty as usual.  He almost looked... sad. Their eyes locked and he  looked away putting his blank mask on again.  

 “-And in that spirit, can I ask all the women to come forward and find their gifts.”  

 

 _“-And I vow before all of_ _Asgard_ _, to be true to you, to love you and honour you in times of good and in times of bad,”  he said holding his fist to his heart in allegiance. “Even if Valhalla and Hel separate us, I vow that I will continue to love you. To cherish you. To seek you.”_

 _Her entire body seemed to be made of butterflies, as she extended her arm towards him, like the_ _Allfather_ _instructed beside them. She had seen so many matrimonial ceremonies over the centuries, and every time she had found the bride to be a fool for being so worked up and emotional. But here she was. Just as foolish and nervous._  

_The man gently took her hand in his, squeezing reassuringly, though his hands shook too. At least till their eyes locked. His eyes brimmed with tears, his lashes wet and heavy. But she could not read any pain or sorrow in those emerald orbs. Only joy. And in her face that was reflected back in those wondrous orbs, was the same euphoria. Her heart threatened to burst as he whispered so that only she could hear him._

_"And so I gift my self to you.”_

“Looks like you're one of the guys this year,” Donald laughed, nudging Syd out of her reverie. All the women had gathered their gifts already while she'd remained rooted to the spot. The men were sniffing around the trees like bloodhounds, digging through the brightly coloured scraps, under the kindly supervision of Florence. As if on command, Florence turned her head a little, and smiled at Syd encouragingly and beckoned her over. 

Syd tried to swallow, but her throat had gone dry. Her eyes felt raw from phantom tears she hadn’t cried. Her heart raw from emotions she hadn't felt.  Her stomach still fluttered with butterflies that weren't hers, but each of them died, one by one, as a sense of loss crushed them outright. The loss of a loved one she had never known. 

Donald nudged her along, as he went up to the tree. With some effort, she managed to move her leaden legs, and walked towards the sparse few gifts that had accumulated on one side. A small spark of recognition lit up in her mind, as she saw a neat script on a carefully wrapped red rectangular box right at the base of the tree.

Damn. She would bet her motorbike that it was Lucas' script. This was worse than she'd expected. Florence must have been put up to this by HR. There was no other reason why she'd have matched them up like this. She stared at the innocuous box and held her breath. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. She'd bought him a decent-ish gift. Maybe he'd done the same... She snorted.

Unlikely.

She bent her knees, not wanting to flash the entire office, and tried to reach for the gift. She stretched her arm but couldn’t reach it. She shuffled closer in her awkward crouch, the tree brushing against her bare arms, but still couldn't get to it.

Double damn. She'd have to crawl under it on all fours. That ass probably did that on purpose. Before she could readjust her position, a familiar set of leather shoes appeared beside her. She looked up, her eyes trailing along his mile long legs -How had she never noticed that he was a giant?- until she found that mischievous face of his. Lucas.

“I’ll get it,” Lucas declared as he swooped down, showing off his long limbs in his black trousers and surprisingly casual, dark green turtle neck. With the lack of sharp edges and stingingly dark black suits he looked almost... soft and approachable. Nice, even. He dragged out the little package with feline grace and popped up from under the tree. He took her hand and hauled her up to her feet with such surprising force that she bumped into his chest, falling into his arms.

Lucas snickered.

"Drunk already? Isn't it a bit early for that?"

She pushed him away and opened her mouth to give him a talking to when she noticed the curve of his mouth properly for the first time. That smirk was more than just a little familiar. Her eyes flashed to his, and there they were: the green orbs from her episodes. From her flashes of crazy she hadn't dared to tell anyone about. It was him.  _He_ was the one driving her crazy. But how? What was going on? What did they mean? Was her subconscious telling her that she was attracted to Lucas? That couldn't be right. She couldn't possibly fall for someone so... so... infuriating. Her subconscious was being an idiot.

His brows drew together.

 “Syd?” he asked tentatively. Whose name was that?  

He looked down at the gift which he was holding out and her eyes followed his trajectory.  

Oh, right. That was her name. 

“Sorry,” she muttered, trying to shake off her ridiculous thoughts. No, the daydreams meant nothing. Nothing at all. Of course she didn't _like_ Lucas. They were mortal enemies. Lawyer and security. She tried to make the world a safer place and he'd help scum run free on the streets. They may work together but he was her nemesis. Her partner in bickering...

“Thanks,” she muttered, not meeting his eyes. She took the box from him, and saw for the first time that he was also holding the tiny green-wrapped box she’d left for him in the palm of his hand. 

“You're welcome,” he murmured, though there was still a trace of concern in his lingering look before he turned away. He squinted at Florence and Harbard, lost in his thoughts.

She turned back to the parcel and traced the shiny red wrapping paper with her eyes. There was a neat little bow made of silvery ribbon that was done by hand. It was a sweet touch. It was probably an accident that he'd chosen her favourite colours... Yes, an accident. That was it.  She clenched her hands into fists and relaxed them, one by one. Taking a deep breath, she unwrapped the shiny packaging with deft motions, ripping the edges off. She lifted the lid off the little black box, and froze. There was a note. 

_A butterfly for the most lethal person I know. Please don’t use it to kill me._

Beneath the note was a sharp-edged red and silver butterfly knife, with intricate Celtic knots winding around the handles. The blades caught the light, shimmering in the colourful lights of the Christmas tree.

It was beautiful. It was perfect. It was just like the one Loki gave her afte- 

Loki.

She grabbed Lucas' shoulder and roughly turned him to face her.  

“What in the-"  

She grabbed his chin, holding him place, and searched.  

And found.  

Everything was exactly like she remembered.  His black hair was clipped shorter than the last time she'd seen him as the worlds burnt down in a fiery frenzy. As the gods, as they, as all perished in the fiery revenge of Hela.   

But here they were.  Here he was with his hair curled around the nape of his neck like in their youth- their Aesir youth. His lips were still close to non-existent though he'd proven already that his tongue was sharp as ever in this mortal form. Her eyes traced his face eagerly, like a blind woman who found sight, hungrily putting all the pieces together. The memories locked into place. 

She was not Syd.

She was fire. She was war.  She was Sif. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Loki/Lucas asked, trying to pull away, but she held him in place with an iron grip on his chin. 

Her face lit up with pure glee. Her husband, the master of magic, the most powerful sorcerer in the realms barring perhaps the Allfather, had not broken the spell first.  

She had.   

Sif. The warrior without a trace of seidr.  

She remembered first.

Uncontrollable laughter bubbled out of her as she let go of him, and she clutched her stomach unable to hold it in anymore.

“Oh my gods,” Sif laughed, clutching her sides, unable to stop the feckless joy as everyone shot her questioning looks. Everyone but Florene- Frigga! Frigga gave her a knowing look, her blue eyes sparkling. She smiled at Sif and raised a brow, looking pointedly at Loki.

“You have well and truly lost your mind,” Loki declared, trying to step away, his little, half-unwrapped present in his hand.

“Oh no,” she laughed, shaking her head, with her wide grin plastered on her face. “If anything, I’ve finally found my mind.”

“If that's what you think…” he said stepping away slowly.

“Do not run from me, you fool,” Sif laughed as she had not done since her rebirth, tilting her head back as she caught his wrist.

A jolt of electricity shot up his spine.

“ _Fool?”_ he asked acidly, his pupils dilating like a feral animal, with a faintly visible tendril of his seidr emanating from him. “I am _not_ a fool.”

Her lips twisted into a wry smile, reminiscent of his from millennia of proximity, and stepped closer, keeping their eyes locked.

“Oh, Loki…You are _my_ fool,” Sif murmured, cupping his face gingerly in her hands. Her face was so close that he could see tiny flecks of gold in her eyes.

Those eyes he had seen hundreds of times before in this building, but thousands, if not millions of times before. In another life. Another world.

In a different realm.

Golden seidr emanated from him and laced around them. But none but Loki and Sif could feel or see as it pulsed through their veins, an old link reforming through the chains of their souls.

“Sif,” Loki exhaled her name reverently, like a poor beggar who had found all the riches in the world.  His eyes grew wide with wonder, not quite believing his eyes. So his hands tentatively stroked her face, and he jolted in as a new spark stung him, causing him to drop the gift.

“Loki,” she hummed, leaning into his still open palm.

“We have wasted so many years…” he breathed, leaning down to press their foreheads together.

“I suppose we have a lot of catching up to do,” Sif murmured, stroking his cheek with the back of her hand and pulled him into a long-overdue kiss.

 ***

Hours after the party ended, and all who worked at Anderssens and partners had gone home, Frigga roamed through the halls of the office, giving final instructions to the cleaning crew as Odin waited in the car. The crew smiled and nodded, all happy to serve as her blue seidr filled them with a sense of ease and comfort. Especially the elderly cleaners with weary bones felt their pains imperceptibly ebb from them. 

She wrapped herself in her warm felt coat, and began heading for the door when a half-opened parcel caught her eyes at the edge of the Christmas tree. She came to a stop in front of it and carefully picked it up, with the grace that only a Queen could possess. She pried the last inches of paper off, and admired the powder-blue box. She popped it open with a click, and couched within its satin-like lining, were two medium cufflinks.

Frigga chuckled softly, and closed the box again, hiding away the two green cufflinks with identical engravings of Yggdrasil.

Everything had come to pass as mother-Yggdrasil had foretold on her loom.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah! Thank you for reading!  
> I hope you guys enjoyed it!  
> Thanks especially to WarandLove for this opportunity and the mods of M&M!  
> Also a thanks to Hozier for writing such inspiring lyrics! (ICYMI: The song lyrics are from Hozier's Shrike)
> 
> Please leave a comment, I'd love to know what you think/feel.
> 
> Lots of love,  
> Anon.


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